


Snap Decisions

by Steadfxst



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 17:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17125856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steadfxst/pseuds/Steadfxst
Summary: Michael can't help but fall for Eleanor over the 300+ years he gets to know her.





	1. Attempt #343

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Myx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myx/gifts).



> My lovely Secret Santa requested:
> 
> A reboot; tell me what happened between that pairing, or the characters in general (porny or not porny). Give me some fluff, or even hurt/comfort whether it be in the afterlife, or on Earth. 
> 
> I hit all the targets, too! :)

“Why do you wear bowties? Isn’t that a little pretentious?”

“Janet picked them out for me.”

Eleanor snorts. Michael frowns.

“I happen to _like_ them, Eleanor.”

“No, that’s abundantly clear, dude.”

“Can we please drop this subject and get to the matter at hand?”

“Sure thing.”

He gets her to consult his made-up list of neighborhood “suspects” for approximately forty-five seconds when he hears her laughing again.

“This isn’t working.”

“See! Now you’re getting it.”

“I was _not_ referring to my bow ties.”

“Oh,” Eleanor says. “That’s too bad.”

Michael takes a deep breath.

“Eleanor, can we please focus? This is serious, and I need your help.”

“I’m sorry. I want to help, but this is just so _boring_. This is torture. We have all of the rest of time to figure out who isn’t supposed to be here, right? We could be out there having fun instead. We should take a day off!”

Michael rests his head on his fist and allows himself a smile. This was probably the (read: definitely) the 232nd time Eleanor had attempted to talk him out of doing work, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what made this time different, but he suddenly found himself feeling amenable to the idea.

“You know what? I think you’re right. We should take a break.”

Her feet drop off the edge of his desk. She leans forward in excitement. Like the proverbial kid in the proverbial candy store. She grips the arms of her chair like she’s ready to launch herself from it, desperate to leave the tedium behind.

“For real?”

Michael smiles.

“For real.”

“Yes!” she says, jumping up. “I know what we should do today! Follow me!”

He watches her fondly for a moment until she is already out his office door and off down the hall.

 _Wait_ , he thinks. _This isn’t right…_

Eleanor pops her head back in.

“Are you coming?”

“Right behind you,” he says.

She disappears again.

Michael snaps his fingers.


	2. Attempt #666

She answers the door in a big tee shirt (and no pants or panties), so he guess she's been having a bad time of it.

"So, what's the problem?" he asks once they're in her bedroom.

"Where should I start?" she asks.

Her smile falters though when she sits down on her bed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I want to come."

She sounds petulant. Sometimes he forgets just how young she is. He doesn't begrudge her. He knows the toll he’s taking on her. And now he’s here to make it up to her. (For reasons he has yet to completely understand.)

"Okay, Eleanor."

He pats her shoulder gently. She smiles gratefully up at him.

"Tell me what you need."

It’s less telling and more _doing_ because it isn’t long before she’s pulling him down to her big bed and kissing him. His hand comes up between her legs. He fingers her for a bit, and she moans, clenching down around his fingers.

“You’re so wet.”

“ _I know_. I need you to help me.”

“I will. It’s why I’m here.”

“I’ve always been able to make myself come. Why all of a sudden can’t I make myself come?”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here.”

“I want you inside me.”

“I can do that. Just give me a second to catch up, alright?”

* * *

“Are you ready?”

“ _Yes_.”

It takes him almost no time to bottom out.

* * *

"Do _you_ need anything from me?" she asks.

 _Eventually_ , Michael thinks. _She always thinks of another person eventually._

She feels more than hears his laugh.

"Just you, just this, is good."

"Hmmm," she hums in agreement. 

They rock against each other, and Eleanor decides to unpack everything later. For now, this is nice. This is good. And the room was warm, and her bed was comfortable, and she was so _full_. She wonders if any higher being or power was watching her and Michael, what they think of her. Of them.

Perhaps no one was thinking anything, too busy doing godly things to care about what she and Michael were doing.

Michael thrusts up and hits her g-spot, and she feels herself get wetter. Her arms tighten around his shoulders as her walls clench around his cock.

"There," she says. "Right there."

"Good. That's good."

He's trying. He's encouraging. It's kind of exactly what she needs right now.

“I’m close,” she says.

She sounds relieved.

“I’ve got you,” Michael says.

* * *

“Thank you,” she says after a long, comfortable stretch of silence. “You didn’t have to do that.”

"Well, it wasn’t exactly a hardship,” he jokes.

He smiles up her.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes you will."

She suddenly realizes she doesn't want him to leave.

But he does.

This snap hurts more than it had any right to.


	3. Attempt #707

“You look sad.”

“That’s because I _am_ said, Michael.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She refuses to look at him. Michael is unperturbed.

“Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Eleanor shrugs, and Michael takes that as permission. If she didn’t want him there, he knows she’d say so. Eleanor was anything but timid.

They sit in silence like that for a little while. Michael doesn’t say anything. Eleanor picks at the grass until she has a tiny pile of trimmings beside her. A bird chirps.

“You know,” she finally says. Michael turns his head at the sound of her voice. “I know this is Hell, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Michael says.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still.”

“You were just doing your job.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

Eleanor sighs.

“It doesn’t, does it?” she asks.

Michael doesn’t know what to say. It takes him a few moments to realize that he, too, has a pile of ripped up blades of grass. 

“You know I’d do anything to make it up to you.”

“Anything?”

There’s an edge to her voice. It’s a cold tone. A bit dark and maybe a little vicious.

“Anything,” Michael says.

And he means it. Whatever thing she was dreaming up right now, no matter how cruel or torturous it might be, he knows in his heart that he would do anything she asked of him if it would make her feel better.

Eleanor turns her head to look at him for the first time since he found her in the park.

“You really mean it when you say that. Don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Guilt? Shame? Regret? Any one of those things that Chidi has brought up in class, really. I’ve never had a name for the feeing before.”

Eleanor nods, seemingly satisfied. Some of the tension leaves her shoulders.

“I believe you.”

Michael lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Quite suddenly, Eleanor leans against him. It startles him, but he doesn’t make mention of it. Too afraid to speak of it for fear of spoiling or ending the moment. After sitting in the sun for so long, her skin is warm through the fabric of his button up.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” she says after a moment.

“I don’t hate you either.”

“You used to.”

“ _You_ used to.”

Eleanor laughs.

“I guess that’s true. I’m glad that phase of our lives is over now.”

“Me too,” he agrees.

“Hey, Michael?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for sitting with me. And for listening.”

“Any time.”

Michael is a little regretful that he has to snap his fingers this time.


	4. Earth

One of the few benefits of traveling all over the world with the humans is getting the privacy of their own hotel rooms. It comes in handy, especially when he knows Eleanor is sad and pining—perhaps for Chidi or perhaps for the family she never got to have—and it gives him the chance to take care of her.

He takes her out to dinner, somewhere nice, and then they go up to his really nice hotel room. (Another bit of lottery ticket magic from Janet.)

It doesn’t take long for them to get onto the plush bed with the gorgeous view. He thinks the view of Eleanor’s naked body is even better, and he can’t wait to get his hands on her.

He gently spreads her lips with his thumbs.

"Just want to see that you're ready. I have lube if we need it."

“I think I’m good,” she said, voice and thighs quivering.

He eats her out until she comes on his tongue.

"That's good," he says. "You're doing so well."

"I didn't even _do_ anything."

She’s boneless, staring up at the ceiling. She feels so fucking good.

"You let me touch you. You let me help you."

Eleanor doesn't think anyone has ever taken such good care of her before. It gets her choked up.

"Do you want me to fuck you, or do you want my mouth again? Or my hands? I know you packed your toys. Whatever you want, Eleanor.”

He's being completely sincere, she realizes, and her brain kind of short circuits.

"I—I don't..."

"You don't have anything to be embarrassed about. You can tell me."

"Please fuck me," she says in an uncharacteristically small voice.

He nods.

"Of course. On your back or front?"

Eleanor doesn't think she could handle facing him right now, so she turns over onto her stomach.

When it seems like she's in a good position that she's happy with, Michael brings a hand down between her legs. He's careful with her clit, knowing how sensitized she already was. And Eleanor had _already_ proven to be very sensitive, so he doesn't want to overstimulate her.

He has to use a corner of the sheet to gently wipe some of her slickness away.

Pushing inside of her is nearly indescribable.

Suddenly, she bucks wildly back onto his cock, and it takes him completely by surprise. If her moans are anything to go by, it’s a mutual thing.

She kind of whites out and goes limp for a second. Eleanor is pretty sure that’s the fastest she’s ever come. (Michael would concur.)

“Holy shit,” she says when she gets her breath back.

"You alright?" 

Because even Michael can barely form a sentence now.

She giggles in a post-orgasmic haze.

"Mhmmm."

She squeezes around him with aftershocks. He feels so _good_.

"I'm going to pull out now, okay?"

"Already?"

"Unfortunately," he says with a soft laugh.

She groans as he slides out of her, and he watches her cunt gush a bit. She contracts a few times, and Michael thinks it's beautiful.

"I'm gonna go get a washcloth. I'll be right back."

"Uh huh," she murmurs. 

She kind of feels like she's in a daze. Like she's floating.

Michael uses a warm, wet cloth to carefully clean her up, and even that feels really nice.

"I'm tired, Michael."

He smiles.

"You sleep. We'll order room service when you wake up."

He’s glad he doesn’t have to snap this all away this time.


End file.
